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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037642">All the Ways He Said He Cared</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneWeasel/pseuds/InsaneWeasel'>InsaneWeasel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tales from the Gas Station</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Character, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Projecting onto neurodivergent character hours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneWeasel/pseuds/InsaneWeasel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people show they care in small ways without ever saying it. Some show it in weird confusing ways, that maybe only don't make sense to Jack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Townsend/Jeremy "Jerry" Pascal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All the Ways He Said He Cared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this on mobile as projecting comfort fic i am sorry sir Townsend</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
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</p><p>Jack's never been good at romance. There's a reason he hasn't really dated anyone since Sabine. Or, well, multiple reasons. A lot of reasons if you count trying not to violently die by a random murderer or you know, monster of the week. </p><p>But, one of them was romance wasn't something he just, vomited out. He and Sabine had known each other for years. They'd grown to care about each other. She was... </p><p>One of the only people he was sure who'd ever understand. </p><p>Jack didn't like introspection. </p><p>Metagaming was good. Introspection was like opening the ugliest rotting pack of old meat in the fridge that you bought months ago and forgot about, because jesus there's so much else going on and you open it thinking for some damned reason the meat's not going to be swimming with some sort of fungi not even Rocco would--no, no he still would. </p><p>It's dirty. You see parts of yourself you really don't want to deal with. And for Jack. There were parts he wasn't entirely sure was him. Or if they were...maybe he didn't want them to be him. </p><p>But. Sometimes life forced him for a few moments to realize, he was a fully fleshed out person and some part of him was always rearing its ugly head to ask him, "hey Jack, what if you didn't trip over your own damn thoughts and could speak your mind normally." </p><p>Jack didn't really want friends when Marlboro wrecked into his life like the racoons on meth. Sure. There was some nice familiarity in shoving away Mathemetist pamphlets and growing used to the persistent regular cultist who wanted his grave nails, but it was all here nor there. </p><p>It was just. Strange. When Marlboro actually seemed to kind of...not disregard Jack's existence. Maybe it was some weird truce they'd formed from, "I'll only steal the White Claw and packs of Marlboro while I'm watching the register while you seem to be having a mental breakdown and are digging a hole out back." And Jack just decided. Yeah. Might as well happen. </p><p>Marlboro was here to stay. He was just odd enough, just consistent enough--Jack was almost sure he was a figment of his imagination. </p><p>But. No. Marlboro. Jerry. Was real. Jack sometimes set aside a pack of Marlboro for him to grab or made sure Jerry's drink of the week was not about to run out. You know. Might as well look out for the semi-drugged new employee. </p><p>It's. Easier to do that then admit if Jerry disappeared, Jack would miss him. </p><p>The strange thing is. Jack was sure it went both ways. Jack was...well. He hadn't ever had a friend like Jerry. </p><p>High school had been miserable, and Jack was the kind of guy to book it out with Sabine. He hadn't ever been redneck enough to really swing it with most of the locals and well, he wasn't stupid enough to make friends with the redneck's targets. </p><p>And Jerry. Jerry seemed to care in an odd way. Jack didn't even notice it until he got to a chapter in a book that was really, really awful--the protagonist was still describing their clothes after what like, fifteen chapters. The hot pink hoodie they declared they were wearing had put Jerry at the forefront of his mind. The man had came in on a cold day in a hoodie two sizes too small and hot pink with something bedazzled on the back. Jack didn't question it, but replied to Jerry's obvious drama-mongering about the temperature outside. "That was the warmest thing you had?" </p><p>"It was the warmest thing she had and I wasn't going to stick around," Jerry corrected. "Also, you look like you want to hear about--" </p><p>"No, I don't--" </p><p>"So, get this I saw this," and it was not a girl he was describing. But the box in her trunk. </p><p>Did Jerry confess to breaking and entering to try and save what he thought was a trapped kitten in a box? Yes. </p><p>Did it turn out to be a stuff animal meant for a child and he was in some lady's apartment hiding in her closet trying to find a good time to leave without making it creepy. </p><p>Yes. </p><p>And as Jack's mind started replaying that convo it was just one word on the page that put a thought in his head. </p><p>Stupid. </p><p>Yeah. Jack had thought. Jerry kind of was. Always getting in the way of danger. </p><p>Even when it was more pointed at Jack. </p><p>It occured to Jack, Jerry may want him alive. Then, as he often does, he overthought that a moment? Why? Was Jerry secretly a monster? Was he going to end up sacrificing Jack to his cult after all? Why would Jerry want him alive? </p><p>Jack was about to give up. Assume Jerry was fueled by LSD and alcohol, but... </p><p>Maybe it was that simple. Jerry cared. </p><p>Jack didn't like the pit of feeling and buried himself back in the book. </p><p>Jerry was touchy-feely after Vanessa disappeared. He'd always been a kind of loud, too-close in Jack's personal space guy, but now it was more apparent. The guy craved touch. </p><p>Jack was not going to be able to help there. Not only did he not want Jerry's cigarette breath any closer, but Jerry forgot to bathe when obsessing over the Russian radio some days. And sometimes in general he forgot to bathe. Jack realized he couldn't speak there. He was pretty sure this was the same shirt he'd scrounged off the floor twice already now. </p><p>But Jerry never asked him. Nor tugged Jack into any unwanted hugs. Jerry would cling to Rosa, but he gave Jack his space. </p><p>Huh. Jack immediately assumed it must be that Jerry was mad or...? But it never came up. </p><p>In the down time between crazy events, Jack sometimes wondered. He one time thought about...hugging Jerry? </p><p>It wasn't that he hated touch. It was just...Jack overthought the idea of hugging Jerry off and on for his entire shift and when Jerry came in to clock in for his shift, Jack tried to figure out how best to do it. </p><p>Did he say it? Did he just hug him? Jerry was going through a lot and you know, Jack just wanted to make sure yanno, they were cool. </p><p>Jerry stared at him with a questioning eyebrow. "You feeling alright, Jack? Do I got something on my jacket?" </p><p>Jack snapped too quicklyand blurted out, "Jerry why don't you touch me?" </p><p>Jack hated himself immediately. Jerry stared then just reached a hand out and put it on Jack's shoulder. "Jack...listen. bud. I uh...do you mean, like..." Jerry not so subtly gestured to Jack's dick and immediately Jack shut that down. </p><p>"No. No. No. Jerry," Jack tried again. </p><p>"Good 'cause," Jerry said. "Kinda feels like it'd suck to give a guy a handjob right next to like...offbrand Doritos. Like if that's your thing, power to you--" </p><p>"No, look, Jerry," Jack cut him off. Jerry looked at him. "I meant...you've been pretty. Yanno. Clingy? But haven't...like you cling to everyone else, but not--nevermind. I'm overthinking this and I need to get going. I have...dishes?" Jack tried side stepping Jerry, but Jerry tugged him back gently, a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>"Wait just a minute, mister. We've got to have a heart to heart!" Jerry announced. </p><p>"No, we don't. This was a mistake--" Jack tried quickly. </p><p>"Jack," Jerry said. "I'm so glad you said something, because I've been trying extra hard not to touch you." </p><p>Jack stared st him questioningly. "Why?" He hoped it wasn't going to be something weird. </p><p>"Well. Ever since I started working here. I noticed you're kind of..." Jerry cocked his head back and forth looking for the word. "Prickly. I once saw you jump six feet from a customer tapping you on the shoulder. You might as well slap a sign on you saying, 'don't touch, I bite!" </p><p>Jack shrugged. "It's not that bad. I just thought maybe I pissed you off--" Jack said lamely. </p><p>"Serious, dude?" Jerry laughed. "You couldn't piss me off. You're like..." Jerry just shook his head. </p><p>"Glad we got that cleared up," Jack said. "So, have a good--" </p><p>"No, no. One more thing," Jerry said, holding up a finger. "Does this mean you're okay with me hugging you and shit? You can still say no. I may cry, but I'm pretty tough." </p><p>Jack scoffed. "Yeah, just...make sure you're least wearing deodorant." </p><p>"Cannot promise you that," Jerry said, and pulled Jack into a hug. </p><p>It wasn't all bad. He didn't smell great, but it was the gas station. Nothing smelt good. Jerry was warm, broad and not uncomfortable. </p><p>Jerry liked casual touches. Jack noticed it more now, and found he didn't mind most. He liked putting his hand on people's shoulders or wrapping an arm around them. He liked closeness. </p><p>Jack still probably would jump six feet if a customer so as much sniffed near him, but he didn't find himself tense around Jerry. </p><p>Just a small evolution to their strange employee friendship. </p><p>It was Jerry dying that did Jack in. He was such a loud presence. For him to just be gone. Jack wasn't sure he was sane, but he liked routine. Routine was good. Safe. This. </p><p>Nothing was what it should be. </p><p>All he had was Jerry's rapidly decomposing head. This was going to be his life. Maybe he should have treasured those moments. Maybe he should have had the courage to tell Rosa he cared too. She wasn't on the same level as Jerry--he kind of had to make Jerry his best friend after how many times they've nearly died together, survival bonding and all--but god, he was a jerk and O-Brian and... </p><p>Just like that. Jerry was alive. Confident as ever. Sure of himself and a beacon of strange light where it shouldn't be. </p><p>Like a door to an old room you never use having light pouring out from beneath it. </p><p>Jack stopped being suspicious and paranoid just for a brief few seconds to enjoy that, yeah, maybe he will have friends. </p><p>Even if they won't remember the strange hell verse this town almost became. </p><p>Even if one of them still does. </p><p>Jack felt at the end of that, an abundance of shaky disbelief and apathy. He was sitting on his couch with Jerry skipping through the previews before the old Bambi movie whirring on a VHS from the compound on a box TV found in the cultist's basement. Built in VHS player. Neat. </p><p>Just two guys. Who lost girls they loved to a force they don't understand trying not to think about the world's almost end. </p><p>Whatever went on in Jerry's head, Jack couldn't tell, but he heard Jerry take a deep breath before quietly saying. "You're not doing okay." </p><p>"Peachy. That was all good. I'm great. Just," Jack groaned into his hands. He wasn't. "No, I just. They're mad. I can't even explain to them what just happened. I'm not entirely sure which people I've pissed off are still alive and maybe Benjamin's going to skin me if he's back and the gas station's a wreck and my life is so..." Jack trailed off and Jerry put  a hand on his back. </p><p>"We need to do what all good friendships that need emotional healing do." </p><p>"Therapy?" </p><p>"A roadtrip!" </p><p>Jack looked at Jerry. He was entirely serious. Jack glanced at the Bambi title screen. Sighed. And decided, yeah. You know what? That's better than therapy, whatever his last therapy had been it was awful. Road trip it was.</p><p>
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